


Shadow Voices

by PunsBulletsAndPointyThings



Series: Rex/Obi-Wan Week 2016 [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ObiRex Week Day Three, Umbara angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/pseuds/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is so much noise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Voices

**Author's Note:**

> Day Three - Coping

There is so much noise.  
  
Rex stumbles, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His bucket hangs from the tips of his fingers, and he scrubs his free hand across his face, leaving it there after a moment, breathing raggedly.  
  
_“That is my order, and you will follow it explicitly. Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?!”_  
  
The longer he remains upright, the more his body begins to scream at him, protesting to continued strain on exhausted and injured muscles and tendons.  
  
He should move. His fingers tighten around the bottom lip of his helmet.  
  
_The hiss of a lightsaber coming to life, the green glow casting eerie shadows on Fives’ armor. “ARC-5555, stand down.”_  
  
He needs to move. He’s going to draw unwanted attention, standing here in the doorway like this. Two steps, that’s all he needs, and then Rex will be safely ensconced in the quiet of the empty officers’ quarters.  
  
All he needs to do is move his feet. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes. Two steps. Just two steps.  
  
_“We don’t have time to look for a more secure route.”_  
  
_His instincts are screaming at him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight. Danger, danger, danger, this is a very bad idea._  
  
_“Yes, Sir.”_  
  
There is so much noise.  
  
The room is empty, the hallway behind him deserted, for the moment.  
  
There is so. Much. Noise.  
  
He pushes off the doorframe with a shaking hand. Takes one step. Then another.  
  
The door hisses shut behind him, and Rex’s bucket slips from slackening fingers as his knees give out, and he drops to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He presses gauntleted hand against his face, and struggles in vain to hold himself together, as his world explodes with voices.  
  
_“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?!”_  
  
Malfunction.  
  
7567.  
  
_“This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”_  
  
_“No recon? No air support?! We don’t know what we’re up against.”_  
  
No. No they really hadn’t. They had no idea.  
  
_“It would help if you would ease their minds.”_  
  
_He has never seen such blatant disgust on the ARC’s face before. “What, you mean coax them into following another one of Krell’s suicide missions?”_  
  
He was right. Fives had been right from the very start, and Rex-  
  
And Rex-  
  
_“He’s a recognized war hero.” The words taste foul as they slip past his lips._  
  
They had been poison, Rex knows. He can see it now, can see the carnage. Poison that caused the deaths of his brothers. Of so many brothers.  
  
_“Do not fall back! That is an order!”_  
  
_“Forget it, we have to leave him.”_  
  
He had said that. _He_ had given the order to abandon _wounded brothers_.  
  
Rex retches, curling in on himself. He’s shaking so violently it feels like he’s going to shatter. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, and still the voice grow louder and louder.  
  
_“A lot of men died, to take this base.”_  
  
_“The price for such a victory.”_  
  
_Obi-Wan’s transmission brings the briefest spark of hope. He actually looks at Rex when Rex speaks, and oh gods, he’s being spoken to like an actual sentient being. The tiniest part of Rex, the part that is, despite the Kaminoan’s best efforts, still the twelve year old Rex technically is, wants to reach out to the man in the hologram, to beg him to come help, because Rex is doing all he can and it’s not enough and he doesn’t know what to do._  
  
_He stays silent, tamps down the gut-wrenching despair when Kenobi’s hologram explodes into hundreds of tiny blue cubes, and braces himself for what is to come._  
  
What came next had been…  
  
_“I realize you have not agreed with all my commands, but you are smart enough and loyal enough to follow my orders.”_  
  
And he had. He had followed orders.  
  
And now so many were dead.  
  
A new voice joins the throng, sickly-sweet and cloying. It whispers to him, and yet it is the loudest voice of all.  
  
_“~It’s your fault. They died because of you.~”_  
  
_“This is about more than following orders!” Fives shouts and Rex wants to tell him yes, yes you’re are right I agree with you, but he can’t. He can’t._  
  
_“~They died because you were weak.~”_  
  
_“We are not independent of one another.”_  
  
They are not independent.  
  
_“CT-7567”_  
  
They are not individual.  
  
He has somehow managed to press himself up against a wall. His fingers scratch against his scalp as Rex presses his face against his knees and desperately tries to find quiet.  
  
_“~Hardcase, Ringo, Waxer. They’re all dead because of you. Because you failed,~”_ the voice taunts. Rex wants to scream.  
  
“I know. I know!”  
  
“Rex?”  
  
He barely hears the footsteps, doesn’t acknowledge the new voice.  
  
_“~Your fault. All your fault.~”_  
  
“Rex!”  
  
Warm, calloused hands brush his, easing them away from his face. Rex shudders at the touch, still shaking. Even like this, he knows those hands anywhere, but the familiar presence does little to fight the rising nausea and panic.  
  
“Rex, can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me, Love.” Obi-Wan’s voice is calm and steady, nothing like the voices screaming in his head. The voices of dead men.  
  
Somehow, he manages to wrestle back control of his body long enough to nod, and the hands slide to his face. They settle there, bright points of light and warmth, combating the dark, never-ending voices and anchoring Rex to the present. The hands never waver, but he can feel the latches of his armor releasing and pulling away, until he is left in nothing but his blacks, and then Obi-Wan is there, pulling Rex close and wrapping him in his arms.  
  
Rex is sobbing before he realizes what’s happening. He clings to his lover, presses his face against the General’s shoulder to muffled screams. He is falling apart, but Obi-Wan is there, catching him before he hits the ground, just like he always does.  
  
The voices are fading slowly, but he can still feel the memories clinging to his skin, filling his lungs with every breath he takes.  
  
_“Rex, you have to face it. He’s been using you!”_  
  
_“You are making a mistake by crossing me, clone.”_  
  
What he is has never felt like such a dirty word before, and he’s heard it thrown at him in hundreds of unflattering ways.  
  
Worst of all was the moment when realization stuck, and as the memory washes over him like foul water, Rex digs his hands into Obi-Wan’s back. (The other man will have ten, dark, finger print-size bruises painting the pale skin of his shoulders, come morning.)  
  
He remembers, with absolute clarity, every thought and emotion that ran through him, when he saw the tanned skin, the cleft chin.  
  
_“We’re shooting at our own men!”_  
  
_“They’re clones!”_  
  
He could still see the exact moment the light left Boil’s eyes, as he crashed down next to Waxer’s body, only moments too late.  
  
Rex will never be able to forget the expressions that crossed his brother’s face.  
  
He goes still in Obi-Wan’s arms, and can feel the other man’s concern grow at the sudden lack of movement. He struggles to pull enough air into his lungs to think, to speak.  
  
“It was my fault.” The whispered words are fractured and brittle, and Rex cannot bear to look up and meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. “It was all my fault.”  
  
Obi-Wan tenses, and Rex waits, waits for the warm to vanish as the Jedi pulls away and leaves. But then the hands are back on his face, and Rex’s head is being raised. He opens his eyes despite himself, meets Obi-Wan’s gaze, and feels fresh tears well up.  
  
Obi-Wan is looking at him with such concern, and love, accented with the faintest hints of fear, and beneath it all burns a white-hot anger Rex has never seen before.  
  
“No.” One word, that’s all Obi-Wan says, shaking his head, and gently, he presses his forehead against Rex’s. “No. Their deaths were not your fault, Rex. Never.”  
  
“I should have…should have done more. Should have spoken out,” Rex rasps, and he wants to hide from those eyes, burning bright with a fierce love and protective fury.  
  
“Krell would not have been swayed,” Obi-Wan whispers. “There was nothing you could have done, Rex. He was well and truly Dark.” Guilt flashes across his features. “For it to get so bad, without any of us noticing…” He trails off, shakes his head, and pulls Rex closer. “If anything, it was our fault. The Jedi failed you, all of you. I’m so, so sorry, my Love.”  
  
He kisses Rex, light, fleeting touches of warmth over every available stretch of tanned skin.  
  
Tremors still shake the soldier’s body at random intervals, and he leans more against Obi-Wan, closing his eyes, as the Jedi sets to moving his stripped-off armor from the floor to Rex’s bunk with the Force. That done, Obi-Wan pulls them both to their feet and, after moment of narrow-eyed concentration, carefully guides Rex the short distance down the corridor, to his own quarters.  
  
Inside, he pulls him to the bed, sitting Rex down and then kneeling to remove both their both their boots, before he joins his lover. Rex lets himself be moved, lets Obi-Wan gently push him back, and then feels the Jedi wrap himself around Rex, solid, and warm, and breathing. Rex’s breath hitches, and he curls into the embrace, tucking his head under Obi-Wan’s chin.  
  
“Sleep,” Obi-Wan whispers, his voice over-powering the remaining dark whispers dancing through Rex’s thoughts, pushing them away. “Sleep now, my Love. All will be well.”  
  
Rex does not comment on those last words. Obi-Wan knows they are false just as well as he does, but Rex is already succumbing to the warmth of Obi-Wan’s arms and voice, sleep overtaking him too quickly to argue.  
  
Obi-Wan can pinpoint the moment the man in his arms falls asleep. As he rubs soothing circles against Rex’s shoulder, Obi-Wan dips his head, pressing a soft kiss to the man’s temple.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, sorrow coating his words at all that his lover has been through in the past few days. Relaxing slightly, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of sleep surround him too.  
  
They would deal with it all, in the morning, together.


End file.
